


Mystic River

by lipservice (thescariestadverbs)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Gen, M/M, implied Dean/OFC, sick!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescariestadverbs/pseuds/lipservice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s really awe, and not self control, that keeps Cas from running to Dean.</p><p>Cas, Sam and Dean go on a hunt that threatens to tear them apart.  </p><p>Completed</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel had only been human for a few months, but he’d shown remarkable progress hunting. Sam and Dean had never seen themselves actually taking on another member but Castiel was a clear exception. The former angel had a knack for learning, and he took to most things like a proverbial fish to water. Pride always surged through Dean when Cas mastered something new, regardless of the task itself. 

Dean would spend hours with Cas, teaching him how to fight or shoot or drive. They would train until they were both exhausted and their bodies were slick with sweat. “One more?” Dean always asked. Cas would never turn him down. They would practice until Sam came to get them. 

 

The afternoon of September 18th was no different, really. The sun hung low in the sky, and some of the leaves were starting to turn. The air is crisp and clean around them. Dean stands at the edge of the clearing, breathing heavily and drinking a bottle of water. “One more?” he asks, smiling at Cas who was lying in the grass trying to catch his own breath. The fall breeze was a nice change from training they’d done in the summer.

“Yeah, sure,” Cas slowly sits up, “one more.” He holds out his hand and Dean pulls him to his feet. 

“Remember to guard your face,” Dean says as they circle each other, “that pretty face might be all you have to go on one day.”

Cas laughs, and Dean moves in, lunging for him. He doesn’t expect Cas to catch him, wrap his leg around him and knock him flat on his back. Before he can recover Cas is on top of him and holding both his wrists above his head. Dean tries to buck him off, but Cas is able to keep him pinned. 

“I must be getting tired,” Dean stops struggling, “otherwise you’d be in for it.” They are both laughing now, at least until Cas rests his forehead on Dean’s and catches his eye, and they both lose their breath.

Sam clears his throat to announce his presence, leaning against a nearby tree, “It’s, uhm, going to rain.” Neither of the other men heard him walk up while they were training. Sam is about point out how they really should be more careful, but he’s too busy laughing at the look on Cas’s face when he realizes they were caught. 

Cas jumps up off Dean, startled. Dean, however, takes his time getting to his feet, “Since when are we scared of rain?” he asks.

“I made dinner and might have found a job too, whenever you guys are done _training_ ,” Sam puts air quotations around his last word. 

“Get bent.” 

“A job?” Cas asks as they walk back towards the cabin they’d rented for the summer, “Where?”

The forest they chose to train in is quite large and remote. The guy that rented the cabin to them warned them to always carry flare guns because there weren’t a lot of paths around. Originally, the cabin was simply a place to have a quick shower or lunch after they trained. It was far enough out that no one would come running at the sound of gunshots while Cas learned how to shoot cans and apples. 

The cabin itself was in pretty good shape. Small, but clean. The kitchen is one of the smallest rooms housing only a fridge and stove. There is an island across from the stove that faces a set of French doors out into the forest. There is no surprise that this is Sam’s favorite room in the house. They got a choice of one bedroom or two, they went with two thinking that they might sleep there some nights. Of course some nights quickly became almost every night and eventually they spend more time there than the bunker. The price had been right, the guy renting the cabin really needed some cash and was willing to rent them the cabin at a severely discounted rate.

Sam’s dinner is nothing special, grilled steaks, baked potatoes and a side salad, but after years of nothing but diner food and take out it might have well been served on a golden platter. They sit in the living room to eat while Sam passes around his research, “there is a small town in Connecticut called Mystic. It’s right off the Mystic River. In the last four months six people have ended up in comas. They all went to work and were found on a bench right outside the same coffee shop, totally unconscious, with no medical explanation.”

“Six?” Castiel doesn’t look up from the news article in his hand, “that seems like a lot.”

“For a town of four thousand people it’s too many to be a coincidence,” Sam nods grimly. 

They spend their night speculating, flipping through books and searching the internet, looking for something similar. Sam stumbles to his bed around midnight, unable to keep his eyes open, while Dean and Cas continue on until the early hours of the morning. Nothing stands out, and eventually they both drift off to sleep.

Sam is the first to wake, probably because he was the first to sleep. He takes a long shower knowing that once they are on the road he might not get a chance for another one any time soon. He pokes his head in Cas’s bedroom, not surprised that the bed is as empty as the other one his room was. He finds Dean and Cas on the couch, asleep. Sam can’t help but laugh a little at the two of them cuddling in their sleep. He wanders into the kitchen to start breakfast deciding to let the scent of bacon rouse his brother.

While the topic had never really been brought up Sam didn’t mind the idea of Cas and Dean, you know if Cas and Dean ever figured themselves out. Cas had brought so much balance to their lives that they hadn’t even known they had needed. He couldn’t help but notice Dean smile a little more when Cas was around and even he felt some of the tension lift. It reminds him more and more of when they first started hunting, before all the leviathans and angels and demons, when they were still able to have fun.

It’s after lunch by the time they are ready to go, Dean still complaining about the lack of hot water in the shower while he loads the trunk of the car. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have waited until after 11 to get up,” Sam says, “Cas should drive though, he needs the practice.”

“I was tired. It’s not my fault Cas snores. He can drive but only if I get shotgun,” Dean agrees, “I’m the one who’s been teaching him anyway.”

Driving was the one thing Castiel had a little more trouble learning how to do. He understood the concept, but found there were a lot of distractions associated with driving, namely, his two passengers. Driving made him nervous. Sam and Dean always told him how important it was for him to learn how to drive so he tried. 

The drive to Connecticut takes them three days, and another half day to reach the Mystic River. It’s raining, hard, by the time they get there. The water comes down in some of torrential downpour. The dark angry gray of the sky is making the color of the trees and the water stand out. Castiel doesn’t think he has seen anything more beautiful than the New England forest as Dean drives along the river. 

The rain has slowed by the time they make it to the motel. The drive has taken so much out of them that the debate between sleeping or getting something to eat is half hearted and sleep wins fairly quickly. Too tired to even bother with the cot Dean climbs into one of the double beds beside Cas, “Sam kicks, a lot,” he mumbles already half asleep. 

The sky is still gray in the morning, and though the rain has stopped the clouds are ominous. It’s at breakfast where they start to plan their investigation. “I want to go to the hospital first,” Dean starts, “talk to the doctors and check out the patients.”

“I think we should check out the coffee shop,” Sam counters.

Cas reaches for the salt, “I think Sam is right, there has got to be a connection with the coffee shop.” 

“Why don’t you go to the hospital, and Cas and I can head to the coffee shop and we can meet up for lunch?” 

Dean ponders Sam’s suggestion while he finishes his pancakes, “that works,” he shrugs, eyeing his brother carefully.

“Oh don’t worry about Cas.” Sam rolls his eyes. 

“You watch out for him,” Dean hisses to Sam when Cas can’t hear them on the way out. 

“Dean, he will be fine.” Sam laughs to himself. If only his brother could see. 

Dean doesn’t learn much that they didn’t already know at the hospital. No medical reason for the coma, full brain function but no consciousness. The doctor seems confused, explaining test after test. There just doesn’t seem to be any reason for it. After two hours he figures he probably should have just gone with Sam and Cas.  
His phone rings as he gets to the car, “I’ve got nothing, you guys?”

“I think you should wait for us there, Dean,” Cas shouts over the sirens in the background, “They say they can get us there in fifteen minutes.”

“Cas, what happened?”

The coffee shop had been normal enough. Full of art and strange sculptures and weird drinks neither of them could pronounce. After settling on some combination of coffee and milk that seemed normal enough Castiel and Sam sat in the corner going over their notes. That’s when Cas noticed the glowing statue. “What’s that?” he had asked, pointing at it. Sam hadn’t been sure, picked up and examined it from all angles. He took a picture with his phone saying they would Google, whatever that was, it when they got home. 

“It’s Sam. He’s in… He’s in a coma.” Cas is holding is head in his hands. He's sitting, strapped to an ambulance bench trying not to watch the man working Sam over. "They're reviving him now," he says while trying to avoid the look of Sam's pale skin. The machines beep steadily, the siren sounds alarming, and Cas can feel Dean's disappointment looming over him.

He’d fallen outside of the coffee shop. Cas tried everything he could to wake Sam, but nothing worked. A girl who had seen the whole thing called 9-1-1 for him and helped him perform CPR. The paramedics let Cas ride in the back of the ambulance and he finally called Dean. 

“Tell me what happened,” Dean growls at him in the waiting room of the hospital, “I want you to tell me everything.”

Cas is crying by the time he finishes the story but Dean’s anger has already gotten the best of him, “How could you order anything there? And touch things? Really, Cas, how fucking stupid are you?”

“I didn’t know,” Cas whispers. 

“You need to go,” it’s hard to tell if Dean is just angry or oblivious to Cas’s pain as he tosses some bills at his friend,” go get yourself a place to stay. Rent a car. I don’t care.”

“Dean, please, let me help. Let me make this right.” 

“Make this right? Sam is in a coma and we have no idea how or why or what has done this to him. I should have known better than to even bring you on a hunt. You aren’t careful. You need to go, Cas. Please just leave.”

“Dean…” 

“Go.” Dean snaps, drawing the attention of all the other people in the tiny room. He notices the stares and lowers his voice to a growl again, “Get your stuff out of my car and out of the motel room and go. You have done enough.” 

Cas’s ears reverberate with Dean’s harsh tone. He deflates as he stands, “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. He waits a moment, but Dean refuses to even look at him. Defeated, he walks towards the door of the hospital vowing to himself that he will find a way to make this right.


	2. Chapter Two

It had been exactly three years and seventeen days since his brother had fallen into the coma, and he had turned his only friend away. Dean still woke up every morning, slick with sweat, dreaming of Castiel. It wasn’t like Dean hadn’t tried to find him, but in the early morning haze the guilt wracked through him.

Cas remained elusive since that day at the hospital. It’s not like Dean gave up, he just had to focus on Sam too. He’d found a cabin, actually more of a shack, out in the forest along the Mystic River. It wasn’t quite falling apart but it was close. The owner almost paid Dean to take it from him. He spent two straight weeks cleaning it up enough to bring Sam there. 

The doctor had been hesitant, but eventually agreed to let Dean take his brother home on two conditions. One condition was moving closer as he had already done, and then other was Sara. Dean couldn’t have complained even if he wanted to, with the young nurse there he had more freedom to try and save Sam. And, though its years of disuse and abandon, the cabin was much larger than their previous one. 

The main floor housed a large kitchen/dining room, a living room, and the master bedroom he’d claimed for himself. One of the room’s best features was the sliding glass door that lead him right out in the beautiful New England forest. The upper floor was comprised of two bedrooms and a den, where he’d set up a small bed for Sara. She never asked him about the stuff he’d set up in the empty room across from Sam’s or why he spent so much time in there. 

She stayed with him Monday through Friday, and though she often offered to stay through the weekend Dean was adamant he could care for his brother on his own sometimes. To be fair, Sam didn’t really need much care other than changing IV bags every 6 hours. Sam’s condition remained the same. Once a month Sara would pack Sam into her van and drive him to the doctor so they could run the same tests over and over again. 

Sara was more helpful then Dean expected. She would cook and do the laundry, while she watched shows on the small black and white TV Dean found in a pawnshop for $3.25. She was more than happy to let Dean do his thing without bothering him. He’d often come home to a plate of food in the fridge or find a casserole ready to heat up in the freezer on the weekend. “I might as well do something,” she had shrugged when Dean questioned her, “I know I’m here to take care of Sam, but I can’t just sit there and stare at him all day.” 

She’d brought a baby monitor her sister no longer needed, and she used that to keep an eye on Sam from the kitchen or the living room. She’d spent time in the garden along the cabin’s side and eventually managed to coax it back to life. She’d even spent some time in Dean’s bed. 

Dean eventually took a part time job in town. Credit card fraud is hard to maintain when you frequent the same store every week. Besides, there was something soothing in the construction job, where for those eight hours he could forget about his sick brother. He could forget about Castiel. 

The weekends were when Dean could do research. He’d set up the laptop in Sam’s room so he could sit with his brother while he worked. “I’m going to figure this out,” he’d say out loud. The memory of Sam’s voice was getting faint however, and more often than not Dean couldn’t hear a response. 

In late October, a few hours after Sara’s left for the weekend, there’s a knock at the cabin door.

“Dean Winchester?” The man’s much older than Dean and he is carrying a briefcase that is also probably much older than Dean. His hair is almost completely white and sticking up in a few places. His face is friendly though and he is smiling, “I’m so glad I found you. It’s easy to get lost up here. I’m Max. We were chatting about your brother a few weeks ago.”

Dean forgot he had invited Max to come see Sam, “Of course, come on in.” 

“Well this is peculiar, isn’t it?” Max leans over Sam, tapping and poking him, “any idea who the witch is?”

“I think it’s the lady who owns the coffee shop where it happened but I’m not sure. Everything stopped after Sam got sick.” Dean shrugs, watching the older man intently 

Max stands up, wiping his glasses on a handkerchief from his pocket, “Let’s go downstairs and see what we know.”

“Are you hungry? The nurse left lasagna in the fridge. I just have to heat it up,” Dean offers as they come down the creaking staircase. 

Twenty minutes later, Dean’s sitting across from Max in the living room recounting the tale Cas told him of how Sam ended up in the coma. The memory of Cas brings up a bitter taste in Dean’s mouth and he has to put his food down. “That’s all I know,” he says, “I wasn’t there.” 

“It sounds like a cursed object maybe. Did you ever find the statue?” Max, oblivious to Dean’s sudden lack of appetite dishes himself another helping, “This is good lasagna.” 

Dean smiles briefly, “yeah, she can cook for sure. I’ve been into the coffee shop once a week for two years. I’ve examined every statue in there. None of them glow; none of them have landed me in a coma. I’m starting to think it wasn’t the statue.”

Max shakes his head, “no, it must have been. I brought some research for you.” He pulls some papers out of the briefcase and hands them shakily to Dean.

Dean recognizes a few of the pages from his own research. There is one picture, however, that stands out. It’s of a woman with long black hair. The clothing and photograph style are from a different time period but Dean recognizes her instantly, “who’s this?” he asks sharply.

“Her name is Delilah. She dates back to the bible days. She is known as the temptress who betrayed Samson to his enemies, and was ultimately his downfall. She disappeared for a while, and she wasn’t mentioned in the bible again. Anyway, she is said to have reappeared in the early 1500s as a surprisingly powerful witch. Her targets seem to be men who find her attractive. That’s how she trapped Samson,” Max pauses thoughtfully, “do you know her?”

“That’s the woman who owns the coffee shop,” Dean’s still staring at the picture, “her hair is different but I’m sure that’s her.”

Dean drops all of Max’s research to the table and walks over to his room. He opens his closet to reveal weapons, not clothes, of all kinds and extremely well organized. He’s assembling a gun when Max follows him in, “whoa there, cowboy,” Max says, “that’s not going to kill her.”

“Something will,” Dean responds without looking over.

Max places a fatherly hand on Dean’s arm, “that’s not even going to hurt her. Let’s take this down a notch there, son. We can find a way to kill her.”

It’s around two in the morning when Max leaves promising to return the next weekend with more research. Dean’s too wound up to sleep so he wanders upstairs into Sam’s room. He changes the IV bag and grabs a book. 

Though he tries Dean can’t focus on the book. He eventually throws it on the floor and heads across the hall into what would be Cas’s room, if Cas were there. It was the first room Dean unpacked when he got the cabin functional. He walks over to the dresser and opens the top drawer slowly. All the clothing is neatly folded, as he had left it, like it too is waiting for Cas to come home. 

Dean thinks back to the old cabin for minute. He wishes he could be there with Sam and with Cas, before all of this. This new room doesn’t smell like Cas. It doesn’t smell like anything really, except maybe damp. Dean shrugs out of his shirt and pulls a new shirt from the dresser. It had been his at one point before he’d given it to Cas. He lies down on the bed running through the day at the hospital in head again and again. He knows Cas isn’t an angel any more, but that doesn’t stop Dean from clutching the shirt and praying Cas is okay. 

It’s the sun, and not his alarm, that wakes Dean after a night of fitful, guilt-ridden sleep. It takes him a moment to remember where he is and another to remember why Cas isn’t there. When he realizes that it must be past eight he rushes to Sam’s room to check on his brother only to find Sara sitting in the chair flipping through a magazine. “Good morning,” she says letting her gaze linger on his bare chest for a while, “I turned off the alarm in that room so you could sleep in.” 

Dean lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “it’s Sunday?” He asks hopeful that he didn’t sleep through it.

“Yeah, my plans fell through. I thought I would come by at see if you wanted me to do the grocery run. I would have called but I figured it would be easier if I could check what we need before I went. You were sleeping up here again, did anything happen with Sam?”

“No, it was just late,” Dean doesn’t elaborate, “why are you here so early?” 

“It’s actually almost eleven,” Sara laughs, “although, I got here just after eight. I changed Sam’s IV, and turned your alarm off and since then we have just been hanging out,” she gestures towards Sam.

It’s not that Dean really has any feelings towards the young nurse, he’s for the most part ambivalent about her; but when he sees her with Sam he always feels a rush of appreciation and affection, “well, thanks.” Dean runs a hand through his hair, “maybe I’ll just take a quick shower and then you can go shopping?”

“Sure thing, I was just about to read Sam here an article from my magazine.” She turns her attention back to her charge, “take your time.” 

The cabin has two temperatures of water, cold and super cold. Dean makes a mental note about looking for a used water heater before the winter really hits as he steps into it and shivers. The water pressure is crap, but he reminds himself how lucky he is that the cabin has plumbing and running water to begin with. Though the shower is deplorable, misery loves company, so Dean spends almost an hour in it. He thinks about his conversation with Max and wonders if there really is a way to save Sam. 

He’s just climbing out when he hears Sara from the hallway, “I’m gonna head out,” she calls, “Sam doesn’t need his IV changed until two so you don’t have to rush.”

Dean grabs a pair of jeans off the floor in his bedroom and pulls them on. He looks out at the forest from the glass door. For a moment he swears he can see someone standing far in the trees staring straight at him, but when he looks again he can’t find anyone. He tucks the gun from his nightstand into the back of his jeans and heads out towards the forest. 

It’s only a ten-minute walk to the river but Dean takes his time in the forest looking for who ever he saw. By the time he reaches the water he’s convinced himself it was probably an animal, or worse - all in his head. The water is crystal clear and cool to the touch when he runs his hand through it. He splashes the cold water on his face before he stands up, “get it together,” he mumbles to himself, trying to shake the feeling he is being watched. He turns around and heads back towards the cabin. It’s almost time to change Sam’s IV, and he should clean up Cas’s room. 

Perhaps if he had turned his gaze a little more to the right and squinted his eyes he would have realized it wasn’t an animal, nor was it in his head. If he had looked just right he would have seen the person standing in the trees, watching him intently.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean reunite

Chapter Three

It hadn’t been his intention to hide from Dean, at least not at first. In the few months following that day at the hospital the separation had left a wound on Castiel, raw and open. He wandered aimlessly, trying to find somewhere he could just fit for awhile and try and figure everything out. The truth, as he quickly learned, was he really only belonged one place. And in order to go back he had to save Sam. He kept pretty close tabs on the Winchesters and did his best to make sure Dean wouldn’t find him until he was ready. 

Cas found ways to sneak on planes and visit exotic lands and countries, bringing back spices and spells. He spoke to anyone who would listen to his tale. Anyone who would offer advice on how to save Sam. He would sneak into the cabin when the nurse was outside or Dean was asleep and he’d perform rituals, give Sam drinks and potions. It’s in Egypt where Cas realizes he should have recognized the barista from the start. He had been, after all, an angel, at least at one point. 

It’s not the first time he’s watched Dean. Cas stands in the shadow of the trees watching as Dean comes to the river. He can’t help the way his breath catches at the sight of the other man. There is something completely sexual about the way that Dean moves through the forest, shirtless and with a gun tucked into the small of his back. Cas can still remember the way Dean’s chest felt under his hands when they trained. 

It’s really awe, and not self control, that keeps Cas from running to Dean. 

Cas waits until Dean starts to head back to the cabin before he follows, trying to keep a safe distance. He’d seen the cabin when Dean had first purchased it and had instantly fallen in love with all the windows and the rustic feel of it. He stays in the trees until he sees Dean go into the living room and shut the door before he slips quietly through the glass doors into Dean’s bedroom. 

The smell of Dean is almost too much for him. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been inside the cabin, really, but the smell, the feel of being so close to Dean is always overwhelming. Unable to help himself Cas lays down on the bed for a moment and closes his eyes, dreaming of the past, of their first night in Mystic and sleeping next to Dean again. 

It’s the sound of voices that wake him. He recognizes Dean’s instantly and after a second realizes the other voice must be Sam’s nurse. The bedroom door is only open a crack, Cas lets out a sigh of relief. He hasn’t been caught. He doesn’t have time to chastise himself; his little nap has already cost him enough. He grabs his bag from the floor and moves towards the door.

They must be in the kitchen. He can’t quite make out what they are saying from the doorway. Cas moves slowly into the main room. He can see the stairs on the other side of it. He should have waited outside until they were asleep he thinks as he walks passed the kitchen door. Luckily, neither of them are facing him. 

Dean’s standing straight, tense, and the girl has her hands on her hips. They’re fighting, Cas realizes. He stops next to the stairs for a moment to listen, “I don’t see what the problem is.” The girl says, “You didn’t have a problem with it before.”

“It only happened a couple times,” Dean argues. 

Cas can almost hear the gears in her head change, “it could have happened more,” she purrs.

“It shouldn’t have even happened then, Sara.” Dean’s voice is cold.

She laughs, “Come on, Dean. Lighten up. I’m not looking for anything serious. It’s a good way to pass the time.” 

Had Dean slept with her? Cas is curious to hear more but he realizes the voices are coming a closer. Swiftly and soundlessly he climbs the stairs. Forget Dean, he tells himself. He’s here for a reason. 

Sam is so very pale and thin. For a man who used to seem like a giant, Sam looks small and gaunt against the while sheets. He’s lost so much weight and muscle, really he is just a shell of the Sam Cas can remember. Cas runs a gentle hand across his friend’s pale cheek, “Hey, Sam,” he whispers affectionately, unable to hold the tears back at the sight, “how’s it going?” He puts his bag down beside the bed and sits in the chair. 

“It’s been awhile,” he starts, “I’m so sorry, Sam. I think I know how to fix this. I’m going to fix this.” He pulls the statue from his bag, wrapped in a thick cloth, “It has something to do with this thing. I know it does. I just don’t know what, yet.”

The statue, for what it’s worth, is beautifully crafted and somehow unbreakable. And not for lack of trying on Cas’s part. He wraps it back up and pulls a jar from his bag instead. He can hear the girl yelling downstairs and even though he strains to he can’t make out what she is saying. The liquid in the jar is the color of tar and doesn’t smell much better. The priest in Egypt had said it would help keep Sam safe and help nourish him, “The body needs more than electrolytes, Castiel,” he had said. 

Cas had just started pouring the liquid down Sam’s throat when a scream lets out behind him. Some of the liquid spills across Sam’s face and onto the pillow. So much for making it out without being seen, Cas thinks to himself. He turns around to calm the nurse down only to have a clean right hook catch him in the jaw and send him straight to the floor.  
Dean considers ignoring Sara when she screams. He isn’t really sure what sparked the argument but he’s not happy about it. He knows he shouldn’t have slept with her in the first place, but it’d been almost two years since the last time he had. They’d never spoke about it before tonight, and now it’s an issue? Women, he sighs thinking it’s probably just a spider. 

She screams again and suddenly Dean’s on his feet. The first scream may have been for attention but the second one is blood curling and Dean takes the stairs two at a time. Sam is all he is thinking about now. 

Sara is standing outside of the room, pointing, “There’s someone in there!” she cries.

The first thing Dean notices in the room is the smell, and the brown liquid all over Sam’s bed. Cas is sitting with his back to the bed, rubbing his jaw. Dean stops short, eyes wide, “Cas?” it comes out more like an exhale than an actual word.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas instinctively holds out his hand. 

Cas doesn’t really know what to expect when Dean hauls him to his feet. He braces himself for another punch, for Dean to yell, for Dean to kick him out again. He’s not prepared for Dean to pull him straight to his chest and hold him so tight he can’t breathe. “God, Cas,” Dean says into his hair, “Cas, I – “ 

“I take it you know him?” Sara says from the door. There is a hitch of jealousy in her voice when she sees the way Dean takes Cas in his arms. 

There are tears in Dean’s eyes when finally he lets Cas go, “This is Castiel,” he says turning towards her, “Cas, this is Sara. She’s Sam’s nurse.”

“Hi, Castiel,” she says coolly. Now that she’s had a moment to really see him she recognizes his face from the picture in Dean’s room, “I should probably give you and your friend a moment to catch up. I’ll go finish dinner.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean’s focus is already back on Cas. Sara sighs and heads down to the kitchen. 

Cas watches quietly as Dean methodically changes Sam’s sheets. He lifts Sam and moves him around as if he weighed no more than a feather. It’s just one reminder of how Sam is slowly wasting away. Cas turns away for a moment, bile rising in his throat. 

When he is done Dean takes Cas across the hall to his room and sits on the bed, “Cas, I want to apologize,” he starts, “I shouldn’t have sent you away like that.”

Cas places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “It’s okay,” he says softly. Cas had imagined their reunion so many times, so many ways. He’d pictured Dean full of love, of anger, of sadness, “I was going to come back, I just – I just wanted to wait until I could do it.”

“Do what?”

“Save him.” Cas whispers. 

Placing a hand on Cas’s chest, Dean stands. His hand travels along the shirt until he grabs the back of Cas’s neck. Unable to help himself Dean pulls Cas’s mouth to his. It’s not how either of them pictured their first kiss, really. It’s not beautiful, or gentle, or tender really. Dean kisses Cas like his mouth is on fire. Like it’s the only thing that could save any of them. 

When Dean pulls back Cas whimpers a little bit. “Cas,” Dean says softly, brushing a stray hair out Cas’s eyes, “Cas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put all that on you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I have to make it right,” Cas says, determined, “I love Sam, too. I want to help him.”

The beauty of the moment, of the two of them standing in the room, realization dawning on both of them is broken at the sound of Cas’s stomach rumbling. Dean’s smile breaks out for the first time in what feels like years, “Hungry?”

The dinner is tense, as Sara watches his every move carefully, “So, Castiel,” she says his name like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, “what are you doing here?”  
“Cas is here to help with Sam,” Dean shrugs, reaching for the salt. 

“That’s interesting, since you know, Sam’s been sick for three years and I’ve never see him before. You’ve never even mentioned him,” she snaps.  
Dean raises an eyebrow at her, “Relax,” he tells her, “Cas is an old friend.”

Sara slams her chair into the table, “An old friend who can’t even manage to use the door? If I hadn’t walked in when I did we wouldn’t have even known he’d been here.”  
“I didn’t want Dean to know,” Cas interjects, “not until I knew how to help Sam.” 

“Are you a doctor?” She smirks when Cas shakes his head, “I don’t know how you plan to help him then. Seeing as he’s in a coma. Or did you forget?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Cas’s voice is quiet and calculated. 

She turns her attention to Dean, “Caring for Sam is my job. Not his.” She turns on her heels and stomps out of the kitchen. 

Cas winces when he hears a door upstairs slam, “I should probably go.”

“Go?” Dean eyes him carefully, “Why?”

“I have a hotel, it’s okay. She doesn’t want me here.”

Dean grabs Cas’s arm so hard it will leave bruises, “I just got you back, you aren’t going anywhere. You have a room here. She’s here to take care of Sam, this isn’t her house. It’s ours. ” 

Sara doesn’t come down for the rest of the night. Dean goes up after dinner and finds her asleep, curled up in the chair in Sam’s room. He changes Sam’s IV, checks the catheter and puts a blanket over her before he heads back downstairs, “She’s asleep,” he tells Cas, taking his hand.

The wound created the day that Dean turned his back on Cas is raw and deep, and certainly not healed by one kiss. His stomach feels heavy and curdled as Dean leads him towards the main floor bedroom. Cas just lays his head on Dean’s chest and lets him hold on tightly. For the first time in years Dean sleeps soundlessly. Castiel, however, just watches the sun rise and listens to the soft beat of Dean’s heart.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas tries to save Sam

Chapter 4

Dean knows the bed is empty beside him before he even opens his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t really be surprised Cas left in the middle of the night but part of him is. They’d had a moment, hadn’t they? Maybe it was all in his head, this thing between him and Cas. Dean rolls over and doesn’t open his eyes until he is standing. Though he normally makes his bed he can’t stand to look at it while he gets dressed.

He pours himself a cup of coffee and leans against the counter when Sara walks into the kitchen, “Where’s your friend?” she asks smugly.

“Not here,” Dean doesn’t even look at her, “How’s Sam?”

Sara sighs, “Sam’s fine. I was actually thinking maybe I could take off early, since its Friday.”

“Okay,” Dean nods, “I’ll just go take a shower.”

The water is colder than usual but Dean doesn’t notice. He feels like he’s walking through a haze, simply going through the motions. He finds himself just standing in the shower, letting the water wash over him without moving for almost an hour. The shower is even less comforting then he thought it would be.

His phone is ringing as he towels off, “Cas?” he all but snaps into it.

“No, Dean, it’s Max,” the old man coughs.

Dean visibly relaxes, “Oh hey.” He ties the towel around his waist and heads into the living room.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it tonight, son. I’m not feeling my best,” Max coughs again and Dean winces at the sound, “I found something though. That statue you mentioned the one the people had to touch in order to be inflicted? She can’t touch it either. According to some diary from the 1800s if she touches it she will be locked in it.”

Dean shrugs on his jeans, “So we just need to find the statue?”

“Yeah, I’m working on getting you a picture of it. I’ll call you back when I find something.”

An hour later and he's sitting in the chair in Sam's room with his feet up on the dresser and the computer in his lap. He’s debating throwing the laptop out of the window. It would make a very satisfying crunch when it lands he decides when his phone rings again. He’s surprised, “That was fast,” he says when he flips it open. “Dean?” it takes Dean a second to recognize the voice, Cas sounds far away.

“Cas, where are you?” Dean sits up straight, snapping the laptop closed, “I know how to save Sam.”

There is a pause before Cas responds, “I know. I have the statue, Dean. I’ll take care of this.”

“The hell you will,” Dean snaps, “where did you find the statue?”

Cas pauses again, “I’ve had it the whole time.”

Dean thinks about throwing the laptop out the window again, “What do you mean you’ve had it the whole time?” He walks across the hall into Cas’s room. It’s funny to him, how even though he couldn’t wake Sam up if he tried he wouldn’t want his little brother to wake up to him yelling. He wonders briefly how Sam would feel about what he did to Cas that day at the hospital. The guilt in Cas’s voice really just makes him angrier.

“I took it when I left,” Cas says simply, “if I had it no one else could get hurt.”

“Except for you, Cas, what if you had touched it?” Dean collapses on the bed.

“I didn’t touch it,” Cas’s voice is calm, “I’ve kept it wrapped up this whole time.”

Dean can taste the bile rising in his throat, “But what if you did touch it?” Just the thought of Cas laying like Sam, of both of them laying there makes him retch. He could barely take it.

“I can take care of myself, Dean. In case you’ve forgotten I’ve been taking care of myself for three years. You don't even know me anymore,” Cas struggles to keep his voice even, to keep it from cracking, “I can handle this.”

“What about me?” Dean whispers, “What about us, Cas?”

“This isn’t about you either, Dean. Not everything is about you. I took the statue so I could try and help Sam because it’s my fault he got hurt in the first place. There is no ‘us’. You, of all people, should know that just because you share a bed with someone doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship with them.”

Dean is oblivious to the tears running down his face. He opens his mouth to respond, to say something, but nothing comes out. His throat burns and he almost chokes on the words he seem to find.

“You should tell that to that nurse of yours, I hear she spent some time in there too.” Cas can’t stop, it’s like a train wreck coming out of his mouth, “You are the one who told me to go, Dean. I didn’t come to see you last night, I came to see Sam. I’ve got the statue I’m going to save Sam and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“I’m coming to help you,” Dean’s voice sounds childish and foreign. The pleading sound it in makes him seeth and Dean forces himself to sit up, “Cas, you know as well as I do that this isn’t over between us. Let me save Sam and then we can figure everything else out. He’s my brother.”

He almost falters at that, “Dean – “ Cas starts but catches his bearings, “No, Dean. It is over between us. It was over the day you told me to leave. Last night was a mistake.” He hangs the phone up.

Cas is standing on the side of the road across from the coffee shop. The hurt in Dean’s voice has made him feel sick to his stomach. He adjusts the strap on his bag and tells himself that he can fix what he said to Dean once Sam is safe. The witch is powerful, the last thing he needs is Dean getting hurt. He shrugs his shoulders up and looks both ways before he heads across the street. He can hear the thunder rolling in, the first drop of rain hits his hand as he opens the door and walks into the shop that changed all their lives.

Dean finds Sara in the den packing up some clothes. His face is pale and his eyes are wild when he grabs her arm, “Can you stay a little bit longer?” it doesn't come out like a question and she can tell by the look on his face it's more of a demand.

Sara looks worried, “Uhm, yeah, I guess so. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just stay here. Don’t open the doors. Stay with Sam.” Dean is all hunter, his voice low and raspy. He hands her a gun, “You know how to use this?”

She nods, staring at the gun, eyes wide with confusion, "Dean, what's going on?"

“I don't have time to explain. Just stay. I’ll be back.” 

The rain is coming down like a sheet by the time Dean reaches the town. The front door is locked when he tries it. He flips the collar of his jacket up as he runs around to the back. The room is dark and empty when he walks in, the only light coming from a door at the other end of the room. He moves slowly, listening carefully. He’s at his last nerve when he slowly opens the door.

Her back is to him, and she doesn’t seem to notice him as he steps into the room. Cas is lying at her feet. He shakes his head when he sees Dean, willing him to leave. Dean is taken aback at the sight of him, his face bruised and bloody.

Her long, black hair hangs straight down her back. She's stunningly beautiful as she raises her hand up, “You really thought you could catch me, Castiel?” she twists her wrist and Dean winces as he hears the bones in Cas’s leg snap. He glances around the room feverishly until he spots the statue, cast off to the side. It’s only a few feet away but he risks catching her eye if he moves too quickly. He meets Cas’s glance, nodding towards the statue.

“Whore,” Cas spits out blood. His leg hurts more than he could have possibly ever imagined and for a moment he thinks about how glorious it would be to never feel pain. He shakes his head again, bringing himself back to the moment. He reaches his hand out towards her to distract her. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dean grabbing for the statue.

“Whore?” she laughs, “Which one of us got kicked out of Heaven for a love affair with a human? Oh I think it was you. That’s right, Castiel. I know all about you and Dean Winchester.” She snaps her fingers and it feels like she’s crushed his hand without even touching it. He can feel the bones splinter and separate. He’s trying so hard to stay awake though his body is trying to shut down from the pain.

Dean whips around at the sound of his name, “Hey, bitch,” he calls out as he tosses the statue, “think fast.”

When he’s telling the story later Dean won’t really be able to remember what happened to Delilah after that. He won't recall the look of pure horror on her face when she realizes she's caught the statue, or the swirling black smoke as she disappears into it. As soon as he’s tossed the statue he’s on his knees, running his hands over Cas’s face. “Dean,” Cas whispers and coughs, “I didn’t mean it, Dean.” Dean gathers up the statue and Cas’s bag before he picks up the broken man and carries him out the back door, "I didn't mean what I said," Cas's eyes are fluttering as he tries to stay conscious.

“I know,” Dean slides Cas into the backseat of the car, “I – I love you, Cas.” He presses his lips, hard, to Cas’s forehead. Cas’s eyes don't open back up. Dean slams into the front seat and he's already on the road before he slams his door shut.

He’s halfway to the hospital when his phone rings. “Dean,” Sara says slowly, “you aren’t going to believe this. Sam is. Well, Sam is awake. Just a second.”

The sound of his brother’s voice is the most beautiful he’s probably heard his whole life, even if it is a little raspier than usual, “Dean, what is going on?”

“It’s a long story,” There are tears streaming from Dean’s eyes as he pictures Sam, sitting in the bed, all confused and alive, “Let Sara take you to the hospital okay? You can trust her. We are almost there.” His celebration is short lived when he glances at Cas in the backseat. His leg is bent at an unnatural angel and his face looks like he’d gone ten rounds in the heavyweight ring. He doesn’t want to worry Sam but he doesn’t want to surprise him either, “Put Sara back on okay?”

“Hey,” she says when she gets back on the phone, “unreal, hey?”

“Yeah, look,” Dean pulls into the hospital parking lot, “can you meet us at the hospital?”

“Sure, I have to bring Sam in anyway. The doctor wants to check him over. Is everything okay?”

Dean glances in the back seat at Cas again, “Look, don’t tell Sam, but Cas is pretty banged up. I’ll meet you there,” he says as he climbs out of the car. He doesn't even bother shutting the driver side door. He shoves the phone into his pocket and reaches into the car to pull Cas out and carry him into the hospital.

The nurse is standing with the doctor whispering. They don’t really look at him and he doesn’t mind. Sam’s more curious as to where his brother and Cas are. The last thing he remembers is breakfast and deciding to go off with Cas and then suddenly he wakes up and some girl is reading to him about shoes. She told him she was a nurse and Dean said he could trust her so he’s trying to but more than anything Sam just wants to see Dean.

“It’s remarkable,” he hears the doctor say, “I mean I’ll run the blood work but they all just woke up out of nowhere. No change in three years…”

Three years. Sam can hardly believe it. Three years.

Sara comes back to him as the doctor leaves the room, “I think we are just about done here,” she’s avoiding his eyes.

“Where’s my brother?” Sam struggles not to be demanding. She made him come in the wheelchair, and though he didn’t want to admit it, he appreciated it. His legs are throbbing and his back hurts. “Where is Dean? I thought you said he would be here.”

“And he is,” she catches herself when Sam’s head snaps towards her, “Dean is okay. It’s uhm. Well it’s Castiel. He’s hurt pretty bad. The doctor said they aren’t sure if he’s going to make it.” She wheels him into the hallway, “I want you to be ready, Sam. It’s been three years since you’ve seen them. A lot has changed.”

Sam pushes himself up to standing. He’s uneasy, teetering like a toddler almost as he steps into the room. Apparently, walking is not quite like riding a bike he thinks to himself. Dean is standing at the end of Cas’s bed, just staring. He doesn’t even notice Sam gasp when he sees the wreckage. Cas’s face doesn’t even look human, let alone like the friend he remembers. He looks, Sam imagines, like someone would look if you dropped an entire building directly on top of them.

Dean doesn’t notice Sam until Sam takes his hand. “Sammy?” he whispers, his cheeks are wet with tears. He wraps his arms around the frail man. It had been easy not to notice how thin Sam had become under the sheets but when he finally gets to hold his brother he can feel Sam’s ribcage through his shirt.

“What happened?” Sam says finally, pulling back. He looks at Cas again, he's having a hard time believing that just this morning they had been having breakfast and he's been fast forwarded into this nightmare where now his brother is shaking and Cas isn't breathing on his own. Sam squeezes Dean's hand.

“I’ll tell you later,” Dean’s voice is hollow, quiet. Unusual. He stands there, holding his brother’s hand, until long after they come for Castiel.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

Sam steps back to admire the work he’s done on the frame. It's laying on the deck just waiting to replace the wall in front of him. It’s just the shell of what will be but once it’s up he would add the rest of it. He can’t help but smile widely at his hard work and the heat of the sun on his back before he sits on the deck to take a break. It’s been six months since he’d woken up and he still finds he tires out too easily. He misses hunting and being on the road with Dean but the few times he's gone have proven he isn't quite ready. At least with fixing up the cabin he could take a break when he needed to.

It had been a month long debate whether to keep the cabin, the bunker, where to live. In the end the safety of the bunker had won, simply because they needed time to heal and didn’t need any surprise guests. They couldn’t give up the cabin though. Every time they talked about it Dean would get quiet, awkward. He didn't say it in so many words but Sam knew Dean didn't want to sell the cabin and they didn't really have to. It's not what Sam would deem livable yet but it was improving. He's amazed Dean and Cas lived there for three years considering the rot and disrepair.

Dean would be back from his hunt in a few hours. He’d texted Sam to let him know he was on his way home. Sam looks out into the forest and watches a squirrel climb a tree. He loves the way the sun shines through the impossibly tall pines. He loves on the sound of the river as it tumbles by. The bunker may be a place completely off the radar but it never felt quite as secluded and safe this. “Wall looks good,” he hears a familiar click behind him.

"Thanks. I can't believe you guys lived in this dump for three years." He looks over his shoulder and tries to ignore the pang of guilt. They had told him over and over again it wasn’t his fault but the sight of Cas walking towards him with his cane always struck a raw nerve in Sam. He covers it with a smile, “Dean’s on his way home. He should be here soon."

“That’s, uhm, good,” Cas blushes at his brother’s name and Sam laughs. Of course, this makes Cas blush harder. He hands Sam a beer, “I love this place,” he says softly.

Sam just nods in agreement. He tries not to watch as Cas works himself into a sitting position. His leg had been virtually wrecked in the fight and he’d only been off crutches for a few days. The doctor had been clear that he wasn’t sure Cas would ever be able to walk on that leg again but Cas had been determined. He wanted to be able to get around on his own. He always shooed the Winchesters out of his way and insisted he could care for himself. Sam unconsciously rubs his leg. 

"It's not you fault," Cas reminds him again, "I'm fine, Sam." 

"Cas, I -" 

"No," Cas cuts him off, "I know you're sorry. I know you feel bad." Cas pats him on the shoulder, "I'd do it again. Even if I knew what would happen. I'd do it again. Though, I do miss angel healing speed."

Sam takes a sip of his beer, "I think we all miss that."

"Still getting headaches?" Cas looks concerned.

Sam shakes it off, "they are getting better," he pinches the bridge of his nose.

They sit like that for almost an hour, watching the birds and the squirrels. Listening to the river rush through the trees. The silence is comfortable, like an old shoe. Sam slowly brings himself up to a standing position, stretches, and walks back to the wall he'd been working on. He would need Dean's help to bring it up off the ground but it would do the trick. He grabs a hammer and starts working away at the rot, pulling the old boards down.

Cas turns around so he can watch. He tries to stretch out his leg without wincing. It's getting better. He'll never be able to walk without the cane and he'll need the wheelchair for long trips but he's here, he reminds himself, he's home. He watches Sam methodically pull out the boards, some coming out easily and some breaking apart with rot.

He'd loved the cabin from the first time he'd seen it. And when he'd been there he hadn't thought much of the state of it. It wasn't until Sam and Dean started fixing it up that he had really seen how bad of shape it was in. Sam teased Dean about the cabin all the time, saying how lucky he was that the floor didn't giveaway underneath him. Six months away from here had been too long.

"Enjoying the view?" Dean slips up behind Cas unnoticed. He's close enough that Cas can feel his breath on his back.

"Of the rotten wood?" Cas tries not to move. He doesn't relax until he feels Dean wander over to the stairs and start to climb up the deck.

Dean reaches the spot where Sam is working and stops to check over the wall, "looks good, Sammy," he pats his brother on the back and his smile makes Cas want to smile. 

It's a few days before they are ready to put the wall up. It doesn't come fast enough for Cas who, as much as he loves eating breakfast with rabbits, is tired of cleaning up after the wildlife. He spent the morning shooing them out of the house. A squirrel has taken residence in the den and Cas is starting to wonder if they are going to have to surrender Sam's room to it as well. He walks over to the far edge of the deck to watch Dean unwrap the tarp. 

The hunt had gone well and Dean had felt a sense of pride coming home to Cas and Sam, which was nothing like the sense of pride he felt now, getting ready to put the cabin wall up. He'd be hard pressed to admit he had pictured them like this the first time he saw the cabin. He could remember the swell inside him when they found the bunker and he'd finally had his own room, and he could remember being pleased about the other cabin, even if he had to share a room with Sam. But when he'd seen this place he'd felt something different in his chest, something he hadn't felt in years. This old, run down, rotting cabin had felt like home.

He waits for his brother before they start to lift the frame. It's heavy, but anything that means so much should be heavy, Dean thinks to himself. This wall would be the first of many. He glances over at Cas who's standing off to the side, leaning heavily on his cane. They hadn’t really addressed much since they’d gotten Cas home from the hospital. At the bunker he’d taken one of the first floor rooms. He tried to switch with him at the cabin but Cas was so damn insistent he could take care of himself, “you should help,” he calls over  
.  
Cas ponders this for a moment before he walks over to the middle of the wall and starts pushing it back. They didn’t really need his help but he pushes anyway until they feel the frame slide into place. He smiles when Sam pats him on the back after. He steps back for a moment so he can see the whole wall. He grabs Sam’s arm and pulls him back too. “Dean,” Cas whispers, “Dean.” 

Dean turns around to see Cas, wide eyed and slack jawed as he stares at the wall. He’s clutching Sam’s sleeve and pointing at the wall. Sam’s got a bigger smile on his face than Dean can ever remember. He steps over and reaches for Cas’s hand when he hears Cas whisper again, “this is it,” he says. Dean knows the cabin is going to need a lot of work before the end of the summer if they want it to be finished but seeing the looks on Sam and Cas’s face he’s determined to do it. The first thing, he tells himself, the first thing will be getting a new water heater. 

Cas wakes up in the middle of the night in the living room. He’s got a blanket wrapped around him that he doesn’t remember grabbing. His book is on the couch beside him. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. He stretches out his arms and his good leg before he tries to stand up. He can’t see his cane in the dark. He can, however, see his new nemesis, the stairs. He’s so tired the thought of climbing them is just awful. His leg had fallen asleep pinned against the couch cushion and now it’s starting to ache. 

He glances over and sees the door to Dean’s room is cracked. It’s not the first time, he reminds himself as he limps quietly into the room. He can hear the soft, slow repetition of Dean’s breathing. He tries to climb into the bed without waking him but as soon as he lays down Dean flops over and wraps his arm around Cas’s stomach, “‘bout time,” Dean mumbles into his ear. 

Cas can feel Dean’s fingers slowly tracing across the bare skin along the edge of his shirt. He can hear the water moving through the forest. He can see the trees and hear the owls. He can see Dean when he pushes himself up so their faces are a mere inch apart. “Is that offer still open?” he breathes, trying not to focus on the green of Dean’s eyes, “to move down here?” 

Dean leans in and kisses him softly. It’s nothing like their first kiss. While their first kiss was raw and ugly and taking this kiss is soft and forgiving. It’s not about conquest or demands, it’s not full of hurt feelings and broken hearts, no. This kiss is about asking for forgiveness and it’s about healing. It’s not even about love, though in a way that’s there too. It’s about moving forward. When Dean pulls away from the kiss he tugs Cas over so he’s laying with his head on Dean’s chest. He can feel Dean running his fingers through his hair. The quiet, soothing sound of the wind in the trees and Dean’s arms around him lull them both to sleep and for the first time in years the cabin on Mystic River sleeps with them.


End file.
